


A Man Of Distinction

by Joolzmp7



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Stripper/Exotic Dancer, Cuddling & Snuggling, Dancing, Fluff and Smut, Frottage, Hand Jobs, Kissing, Lap Sex, Lapdance, Love Bites, M/M, Male Slash, Marking, Mutual Masturbation, Pole Dancing, Strip Tease, Strippers & Strip Clubs
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-15
Updated: 2016-04-15
Packaged: 2018-06-02 11:22:59
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 13,001
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6564277
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Joolzmp7/pseuds/Joolzmp7
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>John finds work dancing at a high end strip club.  His interest is piqued when a certain club member 'walks in the joint' and catches his eye.  They head back to Mycroft's house for a private show...</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Man Of Distinction

A Man Of Distinction

By Joolz

 

Awkward didn’t even begin to cover it. He had known, as soon as the Uzbekistan Minister for Foreign Affairs had announced he was making a diplomatic visit to the United Kingdom, that he would be the one who would end up accompanying him here. The man was necessarily discrete and his predilections were not common knowledge within his own country, but Mycroft’s resources went far deeper. Unfortunately, the deal Mycroft was in the process of trying to negotiate was too important for him to palm the man off on one of his colleagues.

That was why he was currently sitting at a front row table, looking very uncomfortable, and sipping slowly at a glass of scotch, whilst he watched the Minister waving twenty pound notes in the air. The Minister was trying - and generally succeeding - to attract the attention of the various men parading up and down the catwalk, strutting their stuff. This latest gentleman was attired in a cowboy outfit. Well, he had been in full garb, but he was currently down to spurred boots, cowboy hat and posing pouch.

As the final strains of rodeo music faded, the cowboy, his G-string now looped with money, headed through the curtain at the back of the stage. The ringing noise of cheers and whoops fell away and the wandering waiters, decked out in their uniform of tight, silver shorts and silver bow ties, took the opportunity to collect orders and deliver drinks to the excited patrons.

~*~

From behind the side of the curtain, John was peeking out at the crowd. It seemed quite full tonight which meant good things for the tips. This certainly wasn’t something he’d ever envisioned himself doing, but if he had to go through it, then it definitely helped if it was made worth his while.

He’d been invalided out of the army about eighteen months ago, after being shot in the shoulder. He had struggled through his rehab, determined to regain as much movement as possible in his shoulder, for the last ten months. The therapy sessions, which he had been made to attend alongside the rehab, however, had done nothing but help him sink further into a depression, as he was unable to find anything to give his life meaning. The injury had left him with a mild tremor in his hand which, though not disabling in many ways, was enough to stop him performing the complex surgeries at which he used to excel. The thought of compromising and sitting listening to people whining about colds and in-growing toenails held no appeal to him whatsoever, so he didn’t like to consider that a possible alternative, regardless of what his therapist tried to tell him.

About eight months ago he’d been going in to the squat building, in which he had a drab, little, one-roomed flat, to see his next door neighbour in the final stages of moving out. 

~*~  
#flash back#

He usually passed pleasantries with the man when they crossed in the hall, but that was about it. He was very surprised, therefore, when the man locked his door and came over to John and handed him a business card.

“I know you’re struggling a bit, like I was, but if you’re looking to expand your horizons, you could do a lot worse than try this place. I’ve been there for five months now and I’ve made enough to move out of this dump already. In fact, I’m moving over to Spain as Alessandro has a brother over there who is opening a new club. I’m transferring to get some sea, sun and sand and see what the foreign punters have to offer, which means there’ll be an opening here if you’re interested.”

John looked at the card. It was matt black with a single word written in silver on the front; it just said Hombres. On the back was a phone number and nothing else.

“What is this place? It doesn’t say where it is or what it is or anything.”

“It’s a very exclusive club, with entry by invitation only. You have to show this card at the door to be admitted.”

“That still doesn’t tell me what sort of club it is. What does the job entail?”

“Go along and you’ll find out. Just let yourself be open to new ideas. Ring the number and tell them Frankie told you to call. I’ve put in a good word for you so they’ll be expecting you.”

“I still don’t…”

“Look, just give it a chance, okay. What have you got to lose? Surely anything is better than sitting in your room, staring at these miserable walls for sixteen hours a day.”

The man turned round then and picked up his last box, which he’d left by the door when he’d come over to John. He glanced over his shoulder before he headed down the stairs. “Good luck. See ya sometime, maybe.”

“Um, thanks. Good luck to you, too.” John shrugged his shoulders as he unlocked his door and went in.

Well, that was a bit weird. John had noticed that his neighbour had been keeping later hours these past few months, but hadn’t really thought a lot about it. The man hadn’t made a lot of noise or bothered John in any way, so it had just blurred into the background; as everything else seemed to these days. In fact, there wasn’t really a lot that was in the foreground. He slipped through his days doing the same things; life plodding on as it had a way of doing, whether John took an active part in it or not.

He held the card in his hand. What was this all about then? What sort of club could it be? Hopefully not something that required an expensive membership as there was no way he could afford that on his army pension. No, that couldn’t be right. His neighbour - or Frankie, as he supposed he should call him now he had an actual name, instead of the Mr F Brown that he had seen on mail left on the hall table - had mentioned a vacancy. Presumably, if it was work, he wouldn’t be expected to pay a membership fee. Frankie had also intimated that it was lucrative, especially if he was able to afford to move to Spain after only five months at this place, whatever it may be.

John propped the card against the base of the desk lamp and went to put away his small amount of shopping. He made himself a cup of tea and sat on the bed, looking around his grey room. His eyes kept flicking to the card on the desk before looking away again. Frankie was right, what did he have to lose? He could at least give them a ring and see what happened from there. He didn’t have to take the job, if there even was one, but it wouldn’t hurt just to have a look, he supposed.

He reached forward and picked the card up. He flipped it over and typed the number into the phone that Harry had given him. It picked up after just one ring and a pleasant male voice answered.

“Good morning, how may we help you?”

“Um…yes, hello. My name is John Watson, I was told to say that Frankie gave me this number and asked me to ring.”

“Ah, Mr Watson, yes, we were expecting your call. Would it be convenient for you to come down here and see us later on today, at 6.30 pm if you could manage it?”

“Oh, well, yes, that would be fine, thank you. Where is here exactly?”

“If you have a pen handy I’ll give you the address.”

John wrote down the address and agreed that he would be there at 6.30 that evening. He didn’t like to ask what sort of a club it was, so he left it at that and decided to see for himself when he got there later.

He had changed into a pair of smartly casual chinos and a sports jacket and tie – some clubs were funny about things like that – and he didn’t want to make a bad first impression. He had already decided that he would splurge on a cab. He wasn’t really sure where he was going, and he didn’t know which tube stop would provide the easiest access either, so it made more sense.

The cab pulled up just before the scheduled time and John got out and looked around. He was in a warehouse district which was fairly deserted of people at this time of night, though the parking area opposite contained a reasonable number of cars. There was a large building with a black door right in front of him, but there were no identifying signs to indicate what it housed. It looked as if the door had one of those little hatches that opened at eye height, so he squared his shoulders and walked up to it and knocked.

The hatch opened and the large man behind it peered down at John. “Card?”

John had anticipated that he might need to show the card so he had it handy in his pocket. He lifted it up for the man to see. He waited as the hatch was closed and the door was opened. The man behind the door was, indeed, large – John might even go so far as to say massive. He had the typical demeanour of a bouncer. Obviously a high class one, though, as the tux he was wearing could only have been bespoke; nothing off the peg would have fit.

“This way please, sir.”

John was escorted down a short corridor to another door, upon which the bouncer knocked and waited until it was opened. This gentleman had a more friendly appearance and welcomed John inside, into what appeared to be a reception area and cloakroom. There was another man sat behind the desk, answering the phone and John recognised his voice from earlier. 

“Welcome to Hombres, sir, is this your first visit?”

“Yes, I was given a card by Frankie and, when I rang earlier, I was told to come down at 6.30.”

“Ah, is it John Watson?”

“That’s right.”

“Welcome, indeed, then. I hope it works out for you here.”

“What exactly is here, I still don’t know what it is that you do?”

“Oh you’ll see soon enough,” he laughed. “I’m Peter, by the way. Can I just take down some details first, and then I’ll show you through to see the place and introduce you to Alessandro.”

John shrugged. They all seemed determined for him to see things for himself rather than explaining anything. He wasn’t sure what that meant for what was ahead of him, but he had a feeling it didn’t bode well exactly.

Peter got out some forms and wrote down all the information that John gave him. This included a lot of questions about his rehab and current fitness levels, when it came out that he’d been injured, but Peter seemed satisfied with his answers. When they were finished Peter led John towards another door. As he pushed it open, John was hit with a blast of music and some whoops and cheers. Some people were obviously enjoying themselves.

He walked through the doorway and was surprised by the sight of what was clearly a high-end, classy venue, but regardless of the quality, it was still quite obviously a strip club. Well, that hadn’t been what he was expecting at all. He supposed he could do a bit of bar-tending whilst he looked for something better. It would at least get him out of the house for a while.

Peter led him through the club, pointing out the bar and toilets. He walked him past the door to the private dancing rooms, which was guarded by another tuxedoed bouncer, and took him down the one which led through to the backstage area. Just through the door was an area with several CCTV screens, displaying different areas of the club, which a security guard was diligently monitoring. They passed some changing rooms with several dancers in various states of undress, and in a multitude of different costumes.

At the end of the corridor was a door which said Manager, and it was on this one that Peter knocked. They heard a shouted ‘Come In’ and Peter pushed open the door.

“Hey boss. This is John Watson; the guy Frankie recommended.”

“Ah, yes. Come in Mr Watson, have a seat.”

Peter passed over the paperwork and smiled at John as he went out and closed the door. 

“May I call you John?”

“Of course, please.”

“Well, John, it’s nice to meet you. I’m Alessandro and, as you might have guessed, I own this club. Frankie told me you were a great guy.”

“Oh, well, that’s very nice of him.”

“Yeah, he was one of my best, Frankie; and he thought you might be, too. He said you were in the army, is that right?”

“Yes. I was in the RAMC. Fifth Northumberland Fusiliers.” 

“A soldier and a doctor – the guys are just going to love you.”

John raised an eyebrow; he couldn’t imagine that bartenders drew that much attention. He cleared his throat.

“I’ve not actually made cocktails before, but I’m fairly familiar with most drinks and I’m sure I can pick it up quite quickly.”

“Drinks? You won’t need to be making drinks.”

“Oh, I thought you wanted me to be a bartender. Is it a security position you need filled instead?”

“Oh, you are just precious. I don’t want you for anything like that. I want you to be a dancer.” Alessandro grinned as John’s jaw dropped.

“What…? You want me to…? A dancer, really? I’ve never…”

“Hey, calm down. Frankie had never done it before either, and he was terrific.”

“But I… I could never dance like that?”

“It says here that you’ve been doing rehab for an injury, is that right?”

“Yes, I was shot in the shoulder.”

“Frankie told me he often saw you going out running so you must still be pretty fit?”

“Well yes, I have tried to keep up my fitness levels and I’ve worked hard to get as much movement back in my arm as possible.”

“There you go then; the guys love a fit body.”

“But, dancing?”

“The dancing part is easy, you can soon learn that. You just need to stare longingly at the audience and move in a sexy way – and you’ve had sex before, right?”

“Well, yes, of course.”

“You’ll be fine then. I haven’t got a soldier in my line-up at the moment; that would be a big hit.”

John was stunned at the way this was progressing. He didn’t quite know what to say. He had never imagined that Frankie did something like this, or that he had thought John capable of it, either. Was it really something he could do? He could vaguely dance in the normal way, but he wasn’t sure if that would be sufficient for a catwalk.

“Come and meet a couple of the guys and you can see that they’re just as regular as you.” Alessandro laughed and pulled him to his feet. He went back out into the corridor and into the first dressing room.

“Hey, Tony, this is John. I’m lining him up to take over from Frankie. He’s a soldier; don’t you think that’ll work great?”

“Hi John.” Tony smiled and shook John’s hand. “Oh yeah, the guys would really go for that. I’m a fireman, myself, as you can see. They dig anyone in a uniform.”

John was still a bit gob-smacked. He couldn’t quite believe this was happening. He was introduced to a handyman, a policeman, and someone in a smart suit and trilby hat who was just on his way up to the stage.

“Shall we go through to the main stage and you can watch Charlie in action; see how to move and own the stage. He has one of the best smouldering looks in the business; it drives the guys wild.”

John followed Alessandro out and sat next to him at a table near the stage. He quickly knocked back the scotch he was given, and just sat staring as he watched Charlie strut his stuff, as it were. He saw that it was more the way Charlie moved his hips, slinky and sexual, that drew the eye. Charlie walked over towards a table near them, and even John felt hot under the collar, when he saw the way Charlie was looking at the guy next to the stage. It was as if he wanted to eat him alive. The guy obviously felt it, too, and he eagerly pushed some money into Charlie’s G-string.

Charlie finished the song, gyrating freely and pausing every now and again for people to donate their money. John recognised it as the one from The Full Monty film, You Can Leave Your Hat On. By the end all Charlie had on was his hat and his posing pouch, and that was stuffed full with notes. John could see lots of fives and tens, a few twenties and even a fifty sticking out. He imaged what he could do with that kind of money, and Charlie had got it all from one dance.

When Charlie had finished and left the stage to great cheers, Alessandro turned to John.

“Well, John, what do you think? Do you want to give it a shot?”

“I don’t know whether I’d ever be able to do that?”

“Of course you would. Why don’t you come in tomorrow afternoon about two, before we open? A few of the guys come in early to get themselves psyched up and use the gym equipment. Did I mention we have our own mini gym here? We have a tanning bed, too, if you want to lose that English wet-weather paleness. I’ll get one of the guys to go over a few things with you; show you some moves, what the punters like best, that kind of thing.”

“I guess?”

“Hey, come on, it’ll be great. I’m not saying you have to start in tomorrow, but just come in and get a feel for things. You can see how things run behind the scenes and what the guys have to do. They usually all have their own individual number and then, at the end of the night, we have a special medley performance. Everyone comes on stage together and they do a few dance moves in unison and then each of you has a few moves solo and back to the group to finish.”

“Can I see how it goes tomorrow, and whether or not I can even do any moves like that, and let you know after that, please?”

“Oh, sure. Come in and see me before you leave tomorrow and let me know what you think. I know it’s a lot to take in, especially as it wasn’t even something you’d considered, judging by your surprise earlier, but I can really see you working out.”

“Okay, I’ll do that. Thanks for the consideration.”

“Don’t mention it. I’ll see you tomorrow then, John. Stay and have some drinks on me, if you like, watch the show.”

“Thank you. I think I’d just like to go home and think about things for now, so I’ll see you tomorrow.”

John shook hands with Alessandro and made his way over to the exit. He said goodbye to Peter, and thanked him when he was told that a cab had been called for him, and he made his way out.

When John got home he made himself a cup of tea and sat down on his bed, staring at the wall. He couldn’t quite believe what had happened to him. Did they really expect him to be able to do that and for people to actually pay to see it?

He had never been ashamed of his body, though he didn’t know if he’d be comfortable with showing his scar to people. He hadn’t been with anyone since he’d got back so it hadn’t been an issue so far. Certainly before that, though, he’d been very confident about his boyish charms and his ability to please so, when it came down to it, he didn’t think that would be a problem. It was just whether or not he could get up on stage and display those charms for all to see.

He wasn’t bothered by it being a male strip club, either. It was true that he usually dated women, but he occasionally found men attractive, too. He’d even fooled around a few times with his army buddies, just hand jobs and blow jobs, admittedly, but he’d had no sexual crises about them being men.

His head was spinning; all these thoughts swirling round as he tried to consider every angle. He figured the best thing he could do was to try and forget about it for now and have an early night. Maybe when he woke up the idea of it would have settled in a bit more. Then he could see how it went when he went to the club in the afternoon and take it from there.

The next morning, John was a little more resigned to the idea. He would at least give it a chance, he thought, and not dismiss it out of hand. He did his morning exercises, perhaps a little more vigorously than usual, having a proper purpose for it now. If he was going to do this, he was going to want to look his best. He would definitely need to make use of the club’s facilities, if he wanted to get himself back to peak fitness. After seeing the way Charlie had looked up there on the stage, he didn’t want to find himself lacking in any way.

He arrived at the club right on two o’clock and didn’t have to show the card at the door this time. The bouncer, who introduced himself as Jackson, recognised him and let him straight in. They walked through to the reception area where, it seemed, Jackson had been sitting chatting, as the club wasn’t actually open yet. They told him that the door and reception were manned from midday onwards, though the club didn’t actually open until four. This was because they had to answer the phones for queries and bookings ahead of the evening’s entertainment. They also had the occasional special customer who requested a more personal, out of hours service, so they always had one of the bouncers around to oversee any problems.

Jackson introduced him to David, the other receptionist. This was the person he had spoken to on the phone on his first contact. Apparently, he and Peter took it in turns to cover the early shift and Peter wasn’t due in until opening today. John was led through to the club and it seemed eerily quiet after all of the general bar noise and cheering last night. They went through the staff entrance and down to the end of the corridor. Opposite the door to Alessandro’s office was another passageway which had three doors leading off it. One was to a staff bathroom, one was to a tanning room, which was currently empty, and the third led in to a nicely equipped gymnasium.

Alessandro obviously liked to keep his staff happy as all of the equipment was state of the art. There was equipment which catered for both cardio work and muscle strengthening, with TV screens attached on the bike and treadmill to keep you entertained. John recognised Tony from last night. He was using the bench press and he had one of the other dancers spotting him. He finished his count and gave the weight back. He sat up and greeted John, introducing him to Steve, who was apparently a cowboy, and hadn’t been working last night.

Tony took John over to the far side of the gym where there were two poles set up for practice.

“Let’s get started then. Alessandro said you had an injury to your shoulder. What sort of strength do you have in it now; does it limit your movement?”

“I’ve been working to get it as loose as possible.” John held on to his left shoulder and rotated it. “I can grip perfectly fine with it, I’m not sure if I could bench press as much as you just had going, though.”

“Do you mind if we just do some practice on the poles so that I can see how you can manoeuvre on it? I do quite a lot of the choreography for the other guys so, maybe, I can give you some suggestions of what moves you could or shouldn’t perform. I can also recommend some training exercises you can do to strengthen the muscles for specific dance moves.”

“Um, yes, that would be very helpful, actually, thanks. I don’t really have a clue what I’m doing, so anything you could do would be great.”

“Don’t worry about it; we all came in to it just as fresh as you, so we’ve all been there. I took dance at Uni so I’ve been able to help quite a few of them get their routines to flow smoothly, and I’m sure I can do the same for you.”

“Ok, great, thanks.”

“Now, I see you’ve come in work-out clothes so would you just like to take off your jacket and jumper and we’ll start with some general warm-up exercises. Then I’ll get you to do some stretching and see how far you can reach on each side.”

John did as he was asked. They did a generalised warm-up first to get them ready and then John came to stand next to the pole by Tony.

“I’ll do some moves on the pole and you try to copy me as best you can, okay?”

“Sure.”

Tony reached out with his right arm and stretched it up against the pole so that the whole of his arm was pressed against the pole all the way up. John did the same and could reach all the way with that arm.

Tony gripped the pole with his right arm and lifted his legs off the floor, swinging them round in front of him and he curled round the pole and came back to stand in the same position. John managed the same manoeuvre, although his legs didn’t swing anywhere near as high or as gracefully as Tony’s had.

“That’s good. You’ve got no problems there so we’ll be able to incorporate that into your routine. Now let’s try with your left arm. Don’t push it on this side. If it feels like too much we can leave it for now and work on building up your strength before we include that side as well.”

John stretched his left arm up the pole and, straight away, it was obvious that he didn’t have as much reach as he had with his right arm. 

“Okay, don’t try swinging round with that arm, see if you can just lift your legs carefully off the floor so I can see how much strength you have. Don’t forget just stop if it gets too much or really hurts.”

John tried lifting his legs and he got them off the floor, but he only held it for a few seconds before he put them back down, a grimace on his face.

“That was good, I think with a bit of exercising you’ll be able to get that a lot higher and until then you can use your other arm for all the complicated, weight bearing moves. Come over here for a minute and I’ll show you something you can do.”

They moved over and stood facing the wall.

“A good exercise for stretching those muscles is to stand next to a wall like this and to walk your fingers up the wall, making sure not to lift your shoulder and try and get further each day, pressing in to stretch as far as you can. If you do it about ten times and hold it for a count of five each time you’ll soon find it getting better.”

John tried it out and found it did help to push against the muscle.

“That does feel like it’s giving it a good stretch. It isn’t one they showed me in rehab so I’ll add it in to my daily routine. Thanks.”

“Sure. As to being able to lift yourself up the pole, I would recommend lifting gradually increasing weights to get some power back. You can practise on the pole whenever you come in, I don’t imagine that’s something you have at home,” he laughed. “This gym is open at any time so make the most of all the equipment whenever you like. Alessandro will give you a key card so that you’ll be able to come in, even if there isn’t anyone on the door.”

“I will, thanks. I do want to get as much strength back into is as I can, even if I don’t end up using it for this reason.”

“Really? Are you still having doubts about joining us?”

“Well, I’m prepared to give it a go, but I don’t know how good I’ll be.”

“Let’s get some music on and we’ll do a few steps so you can see how it feels. Just copy what I do again.”

Tony started off by walking a straight line, placing his feet slowly in front on each step, his hips swaying provocatively. John tried it and did manage to get a bit of a sway going by the end of the line.

“Try to place your foot slowly, almost inside of where you would normally place it; it should give you a bit more sway, more feline almost.”

John tried it again and it was better this time. They did it again and this time Tony stretched his arms up above his head and then ran them slowly down each other and onwards down his body, until they finished on his hips at the end of the line. John managed to do this, too, which quite pleased him. 

“Now do it again, slowly, and this time, look out at your audience and smoulder at them.”

John blushed at that – could he smoulder? Steve was the only audience they had, but he was busy doing his own weights so John tried his best to ignore him and walked a line. He moved his arms slowly, pausing on his way down his chest to touch his nipples and trying his best to smoulder. He felt a bit ridiculous to be honest.

“Not bad, I liked the bit with the nipples. I’m sure you have a better sexy look in you than that, though? Just imagine that you are walking along and you see the hottest guy, or girl - whichever floats your boat – suddenly appear in front of you, and you have to catch his or her attention before they leave forever.”

John tried to picture something more real to build upon than the vague pouting he had tried before. He remembered a girl he had once seen in a bar which led to an unexpected one-night-stand, when he hadn’t even been looking for one. He had spotted her across the room and known that he had to meet her. His eyes widened than narrowed as he thought of it, trying to show her that he was worth a second look.

“That’s it,” Tony shouted. Of course, that put John off completely and the look faded from his face. “No, do that again. Whatever you were thinking of then was perfect.”

John tried it again, calling the image up more easily the second time. Tony turned him round so he could see what face he was pulling in the mirror. Tony was right, that did look more enticing. He almost looked like he wanted to eat her alive.

“Okay, now do it again, with the walk and the arms and the look. Do it this way round so you can see how it looks in the mirror.”

John put it all together, and he had to admit, it looked pretty hot. He was surprised at himself; stunned that he could look – he hesitated to use the word, even in his own head - sexy. He truly did though.

“Oh my God, you are a natural. You could give Charlie a run for his money with that look. You are going to work out just fine. Steve, look at this.”

Steve sat up and Tony pushed John back to the beginning and made him do it again. John felt a bit embarrassed, but he supposed this was something he was going to have to get used to. He strutted down a line again, and focused his gaze on Steve.

“Wow, that is hot. The guys are going to go crazy over you.”

“Have you decided what song you’re going to use, yet?” Tony came over to the machine where they were talking.

“I hadn’t even thought about that. What sort of thing do I need?”

“Well, it needs to be something with a good strong beat and, it usually flows better if it fits in with your theme.”

“I don’t know any good soldier songs, not ones with a strong beat, anyway. Do you guys?”

“You could have used ‘In The Army Now’ by Status Quo but, unlike most of their rock beat songs, that one is a bit too light.

“Shame you were in the wrong service. It would have worked really well with the beat from The Village People song ‘In The Navy’, but you’re an army man not a seaman,” Steve burst out laughing.

“How old are you, Steve?” Tony asked him.

“Never too old to still find semen funny.”

John grinned at them both. He felt the same ‘all guys together’ camaraderie he’d had in the army, and it was comfortable and helped ease him that little bit further into seriously considering this as a job.

“Why don’t you try stripping your t-shirt off and flinging it away? There’s a choice when doing it as to whether you want to throw it to the side of the stage so that you don’t lose your clothing, or whether you want to target someone special and aim for them. That can get a bit expensive if you keep having to replace your costume, although t-shirts are the cheapest to replace if you buy them in bulk.”

John was a little apprehensive of stripping off and Tony could obviously tell. No-one had seen his scar except the rehab team and they saw so many of them that it made little difference.

“Here, I’ll go first and show you how it’s done.”

Tony walked back to where they had been starting their practise walks and stalked forward, staring intently at John. He slid his arms down his chest, crossed one arm over and grabbed the bottom hem and whipped it up and across in one move. He swung it around his head before lobbing it straight at John.

Steve whooped at him. “Always a classic, Tony; you do that so well.”

Tony grinned at him and executed a little bow. “Thanks, man. Always willing to please.”

“Come on, John, you can’t let this guy show you up. Let’s see you strut in style.”

John sucked in a breath and walked over to the end. He had to be able to do things like this if he was going to take this job so he might as well get it over with. At least these guys seemed really friendly and he could gauge their reaction and see how it might go over with the public.

He focused on Tony and strolled down the line, swaying his hips as much as he could, smouldering a look at him. He copied the crossed-over-arm move, and pulled his t-shirt off in one go. He flung it at Tony, hitting him right in the face.

“Good aim,” Steve laughed. “Nice smooth move, too, you’ll be fine.”

Tony pulled the t-shirt off his face and he was laughing too. John felt the moment when they both focused in on his scar. He blushed and looked down. No chance of hiding it now.

“Wow, that is some scar, man. Was that a gun shot or what?”

John cleared his throat. “Yes. I was shot whilst I was out on patrol. I was trying to save a young lad’s life and someone shot me in the back.” John turned round to show them his back. There was a round hole for the entry wound and a starburst pattern on his chest which had been caused as the bullet had exited. 

“You’re like an honest-to-God hero or something.”

“Oh, that’s it!”

“What’s it?”

“That has to be your song, John; a brilliant beat and it fits perfectly to your soldier theme.”

“Well, tell us then, genius?”

“The Bonnie Tyler song, ‘Holding Out For A Hero’.”

“Oh, yeah, that’s perfect. I think we’ve got it on one of these CD’s. Hang on, let’s have a listen.”

Steve put in one of the CD’s from the stack by the sound system. They all listened as it started off with a pulsing rhythm, and all of them were soon tapping fingers or toes to the beat. Tony pushed John back to the start again.

“Have a quick go. Do the walk and pose to this beat.”

John walked down towards them again and found it was actually much easier to get a sway when he was doing it to a beat. He ran his hands across his body then held them up, joined together like a gun as he came to a stop in front of them. He pretended to fire and brought the ‘gun’ to his lips, blowing across it and then winking as he looked at them. 

They both cheered and clapped as the music ended.

“You have to keep that move in. What a finale.”

“Whomever you wink at is just going to die. I want to be in the audience just to see it.”

John grinned, glad that his spontaneous little action had been a hit. Maybe this could actually work. If he could get Tony to show him some more moves, and incorporate some pole work into the routine, he might be able to pull it together. Maybe he could do some press-ups or something like that, too. Army exercises were ingrained in to him and he’d always held a good body line. Perhaps he could even slide from a press-up into that body caterpillar thing he’d seen before; surely that would appeal to the audience. This had to be a good sign. If he was thinking of moves he could make then he was obviously considering it seriously.

Steve came over and clapped him on the shoulder. “Looks like you’re all set, John. No excuse now.” 

Tony joined them and pointed over to the pole area. “Come on, let me show you some more things you can try and we can start to get a routine choreographed for you.”

John nodded his head. “Yeah, sure, let’s give it a go.”

#flash back ends#  
~*~

John looked at the various people, trying to gauge which ones would be big tippers. He noticed the rather loud gentleman who had been calling to each performer to get their attention. He’d certainly been waving round plenty of twenties so John decided he was definitely worth a pass. John didn’t know whether he’d warrant a t-shirt though. He didn’t always throw one out. It depended if he saw someone he liked the look of; or if there was someone who gave him extra money, without being too touchy-feely. The bouncers here were very good and did keep an eye on everyone, but there was always someone who tried it on; tried to get a handful of the ‘package’ as the other guys liked to call it. John smirked to himself. He knew some of them weren’t as averse to it as others.

He, himself, didn’t like gratuitous touching. He was aware that some of it was necessary as part of the job, obviously, but that was as far as he wanted it to go. Unless he decided he truly liked a person and wanted to instigate it himself, then it would be okay. He hadn’t been really drawn in with that so far since he’d been here, though. Yes, there had been a few people who had appealed to him as eye candy, but there hadn’t been anyone he had actually wanted to meet afterwards. As far as he was concerned, it was a job; a job he enjoyed, certainly, but still only a way to earn a living. It wasn’t exactly hard work; he got good money and had made some great new friends. He was in the best shape of his life with all the training and exercise he put in to keep himself looking good, and he liked having the days to himself.

His eyes scanned around the room, again. The loud man was just sitting down and, as he did so, he revealed the man seated at the table beside him. John’s eyebrows rose. Now, there was a man of distinction. During his eight months here, John had had plenty of time to analyse the punters. It was usually quite clear who was there to watch and who was there to participate; who was there as a joke for a bachelor party and who was seriously interested in seeing the men up on the stage. He could also easily tell a cheap suit from a hand-made, tailored masterpiece like the one his gentleman was wearing. ‘His’ gentleman – he was already getting proprietary; that was a first.

He looked at the aristocratic features, the erect posture; definitely a fellow of wealth and breeding. Doesn’t look as if he’s exactly pleased to be here, so he must have come merely to accompany the loud man. John was very taken with him. He just had an air about him that stood him above the general populous, even the other members here. The club had a very select membership, and John knew that the majority of their clients came from money as he knew the cost of the joining fees. They did allow group bookings for special parties; as long as one participant of the party was already a member or was recommended by a member.

John saw Peter walking into the staff area so he beckoned him over.

“Do you know who that man is over there?”

“The bloke who’s been waving his money around all over? I think he’s an invited guest, I don’t remember seeing a membership application for him.”

“No, not him. The man seated next to him?”

“Do you mean Mr Holmes?”

“Holmes.” John tried the name out for size. “Is he a member?”

“He’s a life member, but he doesn’t come very often. I only ever see him when he brings a special guest in so he must use the club for entertaining purposes. He knows Alessandro personally, and is always given the best table when he visits.”

“Do you know his first name?”

“Mycroft. Mycroft Holmes.”

“Unusual, but it suits him, somehow. Thanks, mate.”

Peter carried on with his errand and John gazed across the room. He wondered how Mycroft Holmes would react to a little participation. He grinned to himself. He had found the lucky recipient of his t-shirt. Let’s see what happened after that.

John went off to finish getting ready. He liked to apply a little moisturiser with a hint of glitter before he went on the stage as it really caught the lights and enhanced the muscles he had worked hard to achieve. He did use the sun bed occasionally to keep the tan he had received in Afghanistan topped up, but he didn’t do it as excessively as some of the other guys. He preferred just to have a healthy glow.

His costume was modelled on his old uniform. He had combat boots and camouflage trousers which had specially sewn seams so that they could be ripped off quickly. He wore a white vest-style t-shirt underneath a beige shirt with press studs hidden under the buttons for ease of opening. He had a regimental tie and topped the outfit off with a beret perched at the correct angle on his head, and he was ready to go.

John went round to the backstage area again and did a few stretches and shoulder rolls as he prepped himself prior to going on. John nodded to Tony, who usually did MC duties, and he went out to start the build-up for John’s routine. John could hear the cheering starting and he stood ready behind the curtain, waiting for the music to start and for the reveal. The first bars rang out and the curtain swung open. John stood in the spotlight, saluted, then marched straight down the catwalk.

He executed a perfect turn at the bottom then came back up as far as the pole in the middle of the stage. When the next beat kicked in, he held on high up and swung a circle around the pole. As the music got higher he did more rotations, swooping lower on each one, then he rolled across from the base and did some press-ups. He did a few with both hands, and then a few one-handed, keeping his body perfectly straight each time. He moved from that into a caterpillar movement, undulating across the stage to great cheers.

He stood up and grinned out at the audience, as he spun in a slow circle with his finger pointing like a gun at the crowd, catching a few eyes and pouting prettily. He focused on the ones he had picked out as high tippers, included the loud man sharing the table with the gentleman upon whom his eyes settled as he concluded his sweep of the room, Mycroft Holmes. He used his ‘finger gun’ to shoot at Mycroft, brought it up to his mouth to blow across the tip and then winked at him. 

The next part of his routine was the striptease, and he used the rhythm of the music to dance around and slowly remove his clothes. He lifted the collar on his shirt and pulled the tie loose but left it there whilst he undid the buttons on his shirt and flicked it open, pulling it loose from his trousers. He slipped it off his shoulders and stopped it in the crooks of his arms so it was dangling down, and he circled his shoulders to show off the muscles he had just revealed. He let it slide down his arms and he flung it behind him to the side of the stage.

He danced around some more and managed to position himself so he was nearer to where Mycroft was sitting. He pushed the tie inside the t-shirt and slid his hands along the contours of his body as he flexed his muscles. He grabbed the bottom of the t-shirt, as he’d done that very first time in front of Tony and Steve, and whipped it off to raucous cheers. He swung it round his head a few times and threw it directly at Mycroft, hitting him in the face and grinning at him.

John moved on to his trousers and cheekily opened the buttons on his flies, flashing the crowd a peek at more camouflage material underneath. He turned round so his back faced the audience and dipped the top of the trousers to show his arse. The crowd whooped as they saw the underwear beneath. John hadn’t gone for a full G-string like some of the other guys preferred. He had a pair of camouflage briefs – and they really were brief and tight. They just barely covered the lower curve of his cheeks but the tops could be seen poking out above. He pulled the trousers back up again then and did a full spin round and the crowd shouted: ‘No!’, ‘More’, ‘Lower’. He did the same thing again and this time he turned back to the front and showed the tight material encasing his perfectly proportioned shaft. 

When the crowd cheered this time, he grabbed on to the legs of his trousers and yanked them hard. They came apart at the specially sewn seams and he flung them back over his shoulder. He swung his hips from side to side so that everyone had a good view of his muscular legs. He turned again and bent over at the waist, putting everything on display. Keeping his legs straight and spread apart, he slowly stood up again, sliding both hands up his legs as he went.

There was plenty of money already gathering on the stage, which had been thrown in as he went about his routine. Now he used his dancing manoeuvres to weave his way along the edges of the stage, to allow those punters who wanted direct access to slip the money into the edge of his pants. Mycroft’s friend was shouting loudly and John made a point of stopping by their table. He smiled at the man and swayed his hips closer so he could reach over and shove a handful of twenties under the elastic. John flicked his eyes over to Mycroft and bent low again, right in front of him. He looked at Mycroft through his open legs and raised an eyebrow then winked at him again.

He stood up again and continued his circuit of the stage, collecting all the money until he heard the build up for the end of the song. He made his way back to the pole and did a few more loops. He jumped up on it, gripped on tight with his thighs, and hung upside down to huge cheers and applause. He turned himself right side up just as the music finished, saluted and marched off; his military style not in any way losing out to his lack of clothing.

~*~

Mycroft sat motionless in his chair, his fingers gripping tightly to the t-shirt John had thrown at him, and staring at the place in the curtains through which John had just marched. He was stunned that he had been targeted, and it was quite clear that it had been deliberate, as John had looked at him and winked twice. He hadn’t really been concentrating on the earlier performers; he had only come for the Minister’s pleasure, not his own, after all. Something about that compact, powerful man who had just been on stage had caught his attention, however.

He had been spellbound with the performance. The peeling away of the layers of the man’s costume, exposing each new area of his body, just seemed to entice him more. He wanted to touch him everywhere; to feel that shiny, muscular skin beneath his hands, his tongue. To run his fingers through that soft, sandy coloured hair. He wanted to… No! He wanted them to stop. He wanted to grab the Minister and slap his hands away; slap all their hands away. Why were they touching this man – no-one but he should be allowed to do that.

Mycroft sucked in a breath. What was happening to him? He’d never been affected by something like this before. He’d been to this club on numerous occasions when he had been entertaining important dignitaries or influential colleagues. In fact, he had memberships in several diverse establishments of this nature and he utilised whichever catered to the particular appetites of each guest. Not once, however, had the entertainment ever appealed to him before.

Whilst he had been thinking all this, one of the backstage staff had been around the stage collecting all the money which had been thrown on for John. He cleared everything away except for several red umbrellas which were opened and placed around the edges ready for the final performance about twenty minutes later. 

The finale consisted of all the performers coming on stage in tight, red, sparkly pants and red top hats and doing a short, coordinated dance to The Weather Girls song, ‘It’s Raining Men’. They all paraded up and down both sides of the stage and the catwalk so that everyone got a good view of each performer. They didn’t stop long enough for people to stuff money individually in their pants this time, but the umbrellas made suitable receptacles for all the money that was thrown on stage. When they all took a bow and left the stage amidst huge cheers, the umbrellas were collected in and the money was divided equally between all of them.

The club stayed open for another couple of hours after the performers had all finished, for anyone who just wanted to use it as a bar, but Mycroft managed to persuade the Minister to leave when he realised there would be no more men dancing for his pleasure. During the twenty minutes they had been waiting for the finale, Mycroft had arranged for another car to be outside, ready to drive the Minister back to his hotel. He had also arranged for a gentleman to be already seated in the back to escort the Minister to his room and provide him with any assistance he may require. The Minister raised his eyebrows at Mycroft who nodded back at him. 

“I think you may consider our negotiations already successful, Mr Holmes. Such service will not be forgotten.”

“Thank you, Minister. Andre, here, will assist you until you are ready to leave tomorrow afternoon. I will pick you up from your hotel at 2.30 pm to accompany you to the airport.”

“Thank you, Mr Holmes. I have every reason to expect that we will have a very fruitful partnership.” He swiftly got into the car and, before the door had even finished closing, Mycroft saw the Minister sliding across the seat towards Andre, his palm gliding up his thigh.

Mycroft turned away and went towards his own car. Usually he would have accompanied his guest directly to their hotel first, and then introduced their companion for the evening once they were in the room. This time, however, he found himself with other more important needs, so he had arranged for Andre to arrive with the car to leave himself free. He had his own driver go around the back of the building to the staff door and he waited there.

He checked his phone and read an email from Anthea with all the pertinent details of the club’s newest performer. He could have phoned Alessandro and got the information directly, but he hadn’t wanted to make his interest public knowledge just yet. Instead, he had had Anthea use her hacking skills to access their computer system and obtain the necessary information covertly. She had then used that information to log into the Ministry systems and find service records and all other relevant information. Saying that, of course, Mycroft had been able to deduce the basics himself, just from his earlier observations, but it would be nice to greet the man by name. Watson. John Watson.

~*~

Mycroft didn’t have too long to wait. A few of the dancers exited together and went off to one of the cars. Then another two came out, one of whom was John. Mycroft got out of the car just as he heard the other dancer ask John a question.

“Do you want a lift, John?”

John had obviously seen the fancy car parked outside and, just as he was about to answer, he saw whom it was that stepped out.

“Oh, I think I’m okay actually. Thanks, Steve.” Steve looked towards the other car that had distracted John and nodded.

“Okay, well, I’ll see you tomorrow.”

“Yeah, sure. Bye.”

John turned and strolled over towards the other man.

“Mr Holmes, I presume?”

“That is, indeed, correct, Mr Watson. It’s a pleasure to meet you. I believe I have a piece of your property.”

“The pleasure’s all mine, and it’s John.”

“In that case, please call me Mycroft.” Mycroft held out the t-shirt John had thrown at him.

“That was for you to keep.”

“You certainly have a good aim. Though that’s hardly surprising with your level of marksmanship.”

“Somebody has been talking out of school. Though, come to think of it, I don’t think anyone here fully knows what it was I did in the army, so how exactly did you know that?”

“I’m very good at what I do.”

“So it would seem. Care to divulge any of your sources.”

“I’m afraid I’m bound by the Official Secrets Act.”

“So was I. So what exactly is it that you do, Mycroft?”

“I hold a minor position in the British Government.”

“I was told you were a life member here and a personal friend of Alessandro, so I doubt it could be that minor.”

“Discretion is my watch word.”

“Shall we stop beating around the bush and you could, perhaps, tell me why you are here?”

“I thought that was obvious, John. You were seeking my attention and now you have it. Have you, perchance, changed your mind?”

“No! Sorry, I mean, no, I haven’t changed my mind. I wasn’t expecting you to be quite so well informed before we had even met, that was all.”

“I make it my business to know everyone I meet, however short the acquaintance. I find it is safer that way.”

“Now, you’re getting all mysterious again. You’ll have me thinking you’re a secret agent next.” John laughed.

“Of course not. Just a man who knows to be careful. I’m sure you’re aware of what I mean with your soldiers’ instincts.”

“Well I haven’t had to use them a lot recently, but yes, I know what you mean.”

“Did you manage to save the soldier you were rescuing before your injury?”

“How did you know I was saving someone? Was that something else from my file?”

“No, that was from observation of the scar on your shoulder. I could tell from the angle of the entry and exit wounds that you were shot in a kneeling position at a downward trajectory through your back. Knowing that you were an army doctor, and a brave one at that judging by your medals, I ascertained that you must have been working on an injured soldier at the time.”

“That’s very cleverly worked out. Yes, I was shot when I was trying to save a young Private. I saved his life, but unfortunately, not his leg. I had only just managed to stop the bleeding before I was shot myself.”

“I’m sure the guilt of that must have been what led to, what your therapist described, as a psychosomatic limp.”

“How the hell do you know all that?”

Mycroft tilted his head. “I told you, I like to know with whom I’m dealing. I’m glad you sorted your limp out, you certainly shouldn’t feel guilt about being injured yourself.”

“I know. That’s what Private Matthews said when I went to see him after I got home. He said he wouldn’t even be here if I hadn’t stopped the bleeding, and a leg was a small price to pay to be able to come home and hold his new baby son. They called him John, you know, after me. Did your little book tell you that, too?”

“I’m sorry, John, I feel we’ve got off on the wrong foot. Could we start again?”

John rubbed his hand across his face. “Yeah, I’m sorry, too. That was pretty amazing, though. Maybe this time, if you want to know something, you could try asking me first and we’ll go from there.”

“Of course. Perhaps I could start by asking if you would like a lift?”

John smiled at him. “That would be great actually, thanks.”

Mycroft held the door open for John and he slid across the seat and waited for Mycroft to slide in next to him.

“So, Mycroft, you didn’t seem particularly at home in there. Do I take it this is not your usual thing?”

“Astute of you to notice, John. I was actually there to accompany my colleague. I must say, the evening took an interesting turn upon your arrival on stage, though.”

“That’s very kind of you to say. I noticed you from backstage and, I have to say, you instantly caught my eye.”

“Did I, indeed? You surprise me; I’m sure there were plenty of better choices upon whom your eye could have settled.”

“Not for me, there weren’t. I’m very discerning, thank you very much.”

“I’m sure you are, John.”

“I’ll have you know, I don’t just ‘pop my cork for every man I see’ as the song goes.”

“Ah, the divine Miss Bassey. I can see why you would associate with that song.” Mycroft smiled.

John grinned back at him. “It is certainly true of the way I felt when I saw you earlier.”

Mycroft blushed, rather charmingly, John thought, and ducked his head.

“Hey, no need to hide.” John put his hand under Mycroft’s chin and lifted it to see his face. “Like I said, I liked what I saw.”

“Mycroft smiled, shyly. “Thank you, John. I have to admit the feeling was mutual.”

“Look. As I said, this isn’t something I usually do, but I would very much like to get to know you better. Is that at all possible?”

“I think that would be a wonderful idea. Would you care to, as the phrase goes, ‘come back to my place’?”

John laughed. That doesn’t sound right coming from you, even though I don’t know you, but, yes, I would love to.”

Mycroft smiled and pressed the intercom to inform the driver of their destination.

“At least you didn’t ask me to come up and look at your etchings. That one would have sounded even worse.”

“Well, now that you mention, I do dabble a little as recreation.”

John burst out laughing. “Okay, that I definitely have to see.”

They arrived at Mycroft’s house quite quickly as he had already told his driver to head in that direction before John got in. John looked around as he got out of the car, unsurprised to see they were in a very affluent neighbourhood. Mycroft ushered him in and smiled as John stood in the entrance hall with his mouth gaping, as he took in the elegantly appointed room with twin staircases rising to either side.

Mycroft hung up their coats and John followed as he was led into a large library with some comfortable chairs grouped in front of a now closed-curtained window, and a sofa placed in front of a large fire place. There was a glowing blaze already alight, inviting them in.

“Have a seat, John. Can I get you a drink?”

“Could I have a small scotch, please?”

“Of course; I think I’ll join you.”

Mycroft poured the drinks and brought them over to join John in front of the fire.

“Oh, that’s good stuff. Do I even want to know how old or expensive that is?”

“Probably not, but I’m glad you think it’s worth it. It’s a special favourite of mine.”

“This is a lovely place you have, is it just you living here?”

“It is rather large just for one, but it’s a family home so I’ve never wanted to get rid of it. I have a younger brother who has his own suite upstairs, too, but he has a flat of his own and never comes here if he can avoid it.”

“Siblings. Tell me about it. I have a younger sister myself, so I know exactly what you mean.”

“How did you get into your current line of work, if one may enquire?”

“Didn’t your report tell you that?”

Mycroft tilted his head and raised an eyebrow.

“Fine, fine, sorry. It was all a big accident really. My neighbour was moving away and he recommended me to take over his role at the club. Simple as that.”

“Not a strategic career move, then?”

“No, not at all. It was never something I envisioned myself doing and it wasn’t even what I thought I was applying for when I went there. I thought they wanted me to be a bartender. You can imagine my surprise when they told me what they actually wanted me to do.”

“Indeed.”

“Anyway, I had a trial and found I rather enjoyed it. It’s not exactly hard work and it helped me get myself back into shape after my injury so I’ve just sort of stuck with it. They’re a great bunch of guys and we all look out for each other. I’d felt a bit lost after I came out of the army and it felt nice to belong to something again.”

“I can see how that would have helped.”

“So I take it you’re not a regular at the club, then. I don’t remember seeing you there before – and believe me, I would have remembered.”

John grinned as Mycroft blushed.

“No. I have memberships at several clubs like that for when I need to entertain visiting clients or colleagues. It isn’t something I look for myself.”

“Well, I consider it very lucky that you had someone to bring in tonight, because it gave me a chance to meet you.”

John was finding the reddening of Mycroft’s cheeks very appealing and wanted to do whatever he could to bring it about as often as possible.

“So, Mycroft, could I, maybe, interest you in a private performance?”

“I don’t want you to feel you have to oblige.”

“Oh, it would be no obligation, I can assure you.” John winked at him.

“In that case, I would like that very much. Thank you.”

John gave Mycroft his glass and it was put down on the side table, along with his own. John took off his shoes and socks and stood up. Mycroft looked at his strong feet, noticing how evenly John was distributing his weight. There was no sign now of that psychosomatic injury. Mycroft’s eyes travelled up his body, pausing only briefly over the already-growing bulge in John’s trousers, before his eyes shot up to meet John’s. He blushed as he realised that John knew where he had been looking.

John smiled at him and swayed his hips, calling Mycroft’s attention back again. He had no problem with Mycroft looking there – he had certainly become inured to it after eight months of parading himself in front of hundreds of eyes – but this time it felt more personal and, definitely, more wanted.

John slid his fingers across his chest and, using the same manoeuvre he had done in his routine earlier, he pulled his jumper off over his head. He flung it lightly at Mycroft’s chest and smiled.

“I’m going to need that one back, this time.” Mycroft smiled back at him and nodded, holding on to the soft material for a moment before putting it by his side. 

John’s hand went back up to his face and he slid it down his cheek and along his jaw to his Adam’s apple. He stroked his finger across it, swallowing to make it move, before slowly moving down to undo the buttons on his shirt. He didn’t have a vest on this time, and every button revealed more of that lightly tanned skin that Mycroft was desperate to feel. John reached the bottom, but he didn’t take it off. He skimmed the tip of his finger up and down his chest a few times, swooping lower on each pass, until he pushed it just under the edge of his trousers and slid it along the top. 

John nudged Mycroft’s knees apart and stepped a little closer until he was standing between them. He circled his hips again, then crossed his arms behind his head and pushed his groin forward, watching Mycroft’s eyes as they followed the movement. John could see that his eyes widened and his fingers twitched as if he wanted to touch.

John dropped his arms and one reached forward to take Mycroft’s own. He interlocked their fingers and squeezed gently. Mycroft held on tight, enjoying the contact.

“You can touch. I’d like you to.”

Mycroft looked up questioningly at John’s face. John nodded to him and Mycroft stretched out his other hand to brush it lightly across the front of John’s trousers. John sucked in a breath as he felt the touch. He suddenly didn’t want to be so far away. He lifted his knees on to the sofa and straddled Mycroft’s hips, sinking down to sit in his lap.

He had been planning a slow striptease, but the desperate look on Mycroft’s face hastened him on. He needed to taste those lips. The bottom one was being held in place by Mycroft’s teeth as if that was the only way he could stop it opening and demanding more. John bent forward and slid his tongue along the small, still visible portion of bottom lip. It popped free as Mycroft gasped and John quickly sucked it into his own mouth, wanting to sooth that reddened flesh.

Mycroft’s hand gripped hard against John’s fingers, so John squeezed back and moved the hand down on to his hip. He stroked his now free hand across Mycroft’s cheek and into his hair, tipping Mycroft’s head further back so that he could angle himself to comfortably reach his mouth. He placed soft kisses across Mycroft’s lips, nibbling gently until Mycroft opened his mouth, trying to catch hold of John and keep him there. John relented and pressed his lips firmly against Mycroft, giving him the pressure he was looking for.

When Mycroft paused for breath again, John flicked his tongue in and teased the tip of Mycroft’s own for a few moments. He pushed his own tongue inside to taste Mycroft further. Mycroft copied him; groaning as he got to taste John properly. John kissed along his jaw until he reached his ear. He licked around the shell, bit down on the lobe, before hovering over it and whispering to Mycroft.

“Touch me.”

Mycroft’s head hit the back of the sofa and his eyes closed for a moment. He had it. He had the permission that none of those men earlier had been given. He was allowed to touch John. John sat back to allow him some room, but kept one hand in Mycroft’s hair, stroking through the strands, gently massaging Mycroft’s head.

Mycroft opened his eyes and scanned them down John’s body. His fingers rose to John’s gaping shirt and he reached between the folds and slid them down John’s smooth, tanned chest, following the path that John, himself, had taken before. John’s stomach flinched at the first touch of those long fingers. Mycroft stroked them up and down, making a wider circle each time, until he was brushing the shirt edge aside with the back of his hand, as his fingers brushed lightly over a nipple. John sucked in a breath at the touch. Mycroft went back up again and circled it this time, pressing harder as he reached the centre.

He watched John’s face as he did it again; loving the way John’s eyes closed and his head fell back. When Mycroft pinched the raised nub John gasped and pushed his chest forward. The muscled skin tightened as his spine bowed further. John’s hand gripped reflexively in Mycroft’s hair and Mycroft moved his other hand up from John’s hip to the small of his back, feeling the stretch of the muscles as he supported him.

Mycroft leant forward to taste that little nub of flesh he’d been teasing. His tongue swept across the surface and John shivered, sliding slightly forwards as his body stretched again. Mycroft’s hands moved up John’s back to grab onto his shoulders from behind. He pulled John closer to him to reach across to his other nipple and John pushed the rest of the way forwards so that his body was aligned with Mycroft. This had the delightful result of brushing their groins against each other and both men groaned at the intimate touch. Both of them wanted more; wanted to feel their bodies touching without any barriers. 

John unfastened the buttons on Mycroft’s shirt, knowing that was the easiest part of his body to expose from this position. Mycroft was a lot paler than John, but he didn’t mind; he liked the contrast. He liked knowing that this skin wasn’t revealed at the drop of the hat for anyone to see; it was his to enjoy. He pushed the shirt off Mycroft’s shoulders and kissed his way back along the shoulder, collar bone and neck. He trailed his tongue along the skin and left a love bite in the crook of his neck where he knew it would be safely hidden by Mycroft’s collar. He wanted to mark him but he didn’t want to embarrass him. They would both know that it was there, though.

John reached down and undid the flies on his jeans. He did the same to Mycroft’s trousers. The heads of their cocks rubbed together through their underwear. John enjoyed the little whimper that left Mycroft’s lips. He pushed the material aside and they finally touched, skin to skin. John rotated his hips, making sure to rub against Mycroft as he did so. The small amount of pre-come that had already leaked out eased the glide, and John took both of the heads into his hand and pressed them together. He traced his fingers across Mycroft’s slit and then his own, enjoying the heightened sensations.

John reached down and took one shaft in each hand, bringing their full lengths together, as much as their positions would allow. Mycroft held John upright and John pushed their bodies against each other until they settled into a smooth rhythm. John found the muscles he had gained from gyrating his hips came into good use as he moved to push his shaft along the length of Mycroft’s on each rotation.

It didn’t take long until both of them were nearing the edge. Mycroft was making little noises and John was moaning as his fingers slid along the smooth skin. He gave an extra squeeze and twist as he reached the head of Mycroft’s cock and that was all it took. Mycroft gasped and his eyes shot wide open for a moment, before closing as his head fell back against the sofa. He let out a sated sigh. John used the extra lubrication to pull harder on his own shaft and he soon followed suit. He collapsed forward against Mycroft’s chest, his head sliding down to rest in the crook of Mycroft’s neck. He pressed occasional soft kisses on to the smooth skin in front of him as he gathered his breath.

Mycroft conveniently had a handkerchief in his pocket, and when he could raise the strength to move, he passed it to John who quickly cleaned them both up. John was quite happy to stay where he was in Mycroft’s lap. The added height allowed him to lean down and tilt Mycroft’s head back so he could reach those delicious lips. They shared some lazy, slow kisses as they both recovered; neither feeling the need to rush things along. 

A while later, Mycroft twitched his leg. John pulled back and looked down at him.

“Sorry, I should have thought, I must be way too heavy for you.”

He made to swing his leg over Mycroft and let him free.

“No! I mean, you don’t have to do that. I was enjoying what we were doing. I… I liked having you so close.”

“Me too, but there’s no need for you to suffer for it. Unless you want to kick me out, we could perhaps move this somewhere more comfortable?”

“Yes, I’d like that. Shall we go upstairs?”

“You realise that when I get you up there, I might not let you go again.”

“You won’t hear any arguments from me.” They grinned at each other.

“Lead the way.”

John climbed off Mycroft and extended his hand to pull him up. He didn’t let go when Mycroft went ahead of him and they walked up the stairs towards the bedroom hand in hand.

John’s first sight was of thick mahogany wood and dark, wine coloured velvet curtains fastened around the top of an elegant four poster bed. The sheets and pillowcases were in a pale ivory Egyptian cotton with a counterpane across the bottom of the bed matching the curtains. Everything looked decadently soft and tempting and John couldn’t wait to get Mycroft on it and feel it for himself.

“Okay, this time I’m serious. I am never leaving this room ever again.”

“Believe me when I say, I would never make you or, indeed, want you to be anywhere else.”

“Come here, you.”

John grabbed hold of Mycroft and picked him up to the sound of a very unmanly squeak. He carried him over to the bed and laid him down in the centre. He slid his hands along the sheets feeling how soft they really were. He reached up to the velvet curtains and pulled the cords to shake them loose. He pulled them shut around them, leaving a small gap in one just to allow a little bit of light in so that he could see the delectable man in front of him. He reached down to place gentle kisses on Mycroft’s face. He lingered over his lips, the skin even softer than the sheets on which they were laying.

“Now, you’re mine, Mr Holmes.”

“Always, Mr Watson.”

~*~  
Fin  
~*~

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks to A for all the help.
> 
> Hope you enjoy the story. :)


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